How to Be
by Livvie
Summary: Story Completed! This is the How to Be Series, a Hunter/Stephanie fic. We've had: How to Be: Obsessed, Pathetic, Afraid and Possessive and Drunk. This is the Seventh and Final Part: How to Be: Loved.
1. How to Be: Obsessed

Okay, here's how this arc is going to work. First of all, it's not a stand-alone. This is a seven-part series. The overall arc is entitled "How to Be" but the chapter titles will change from each different section. So this first chapter is "How to Be: Obsessed", the next one will be "How to Be: Desperate", and so on. The p.o.v. will also alternate between Hunter and Stephanie.    
  
  


Part I--How to Be: Obsessed**  
  
**

  
The man surveyed the crowd dancing below. The pulse of the music throbbed in his body, the lighting cast shadows over faces, giving even the most ordinary visage an ethereal sort of glow. Since virtually everyone in the room was simply beautiful or at least really good looking, the lighting was all the more intense. He ignored the women who "accidentally" brushed his arm, shooting them disdainful glares, but still didn't bother to actually move.   
  
His attention was completely riveted to the young woman dancing in the throngs below. Her long brown hair bounced around her shoulders. She wore glitter on her bare arms and it taunted the light around her, making her skin glow. Her arms swung smoothly as she moved against the two—oh, now it was three—men dancing around her. In addition to Earring Guy and Sailor Boy (the names due to the fact one had about eight piercings and the second guy was so clean-cut he looked just—sailorish), there was now Purple Shiny Shirt Guy.   
  
If looks could kill, God, those guys would so be *ash* by now.  
  
His fingers tensed on the balcony railing.  
  
He wondered when he had turned from the World Champion into a pathetic stalker.   
  
He wonders if this is what it felt like to have an obsession.  
  
He didn't know, he'd never had one before. The quest for his title…was merely a passion. His work? The same.   
  
But this…he didn't know how to quantify this. Obsession was the only word that really fit….which was somewhat unsettling, really.  
  
He thinks this might have begun three weeks ago when he'd been walking past the T.V. It had been innocent enough, really. He'd been brushing his teeth…and that was when he saw her in that tight black tank top.  
  


  
Three Weeks Prior

  
He dropped the toothbrush. Swallowed, then winced as he realized he'd had a mouthful of toothpaste.  
  
Angrily, he switched the channel. Friends was on. The chicks were hot enough, sure, but no…the big dorky guy who liked dinosaurs had always freaked him out.  
  
Must-see t.v. his ass.  
  
He flipped again. Survivor. Heh. If those idiots thought being in the middle of the Amazon was hard, he'd love to see them try and survive one day in the WWE.  
  
The WWE was the real Survivor.  
  
And suddenly she was back on his T.V. again. Huh. He'd flipped back without even realizing it. His finger twitched as if to turn the channel again but…  
  
It didn't move. He stared blankly down at his hand and slowly put the remote down. He sat on the bed, feeling the give of the mattress beneath him.  
  
He realized he hadn't breathed in over a minute. Inhale, exhale. Breathing used to come so naturally to him.  
  
It was seven-ten p.m. and Hunter Hearst-Helmsley was bored out of his mind.  
  
He was really damn tired of being bored. Brown eyes studied the television thoughtfully, as if he thought if he could just *stare* hard enough it would be like she was in the same room with him.  
  
He tore his gaze away from the television. On the night stand there was a small black book absolutely filled with the names of dozens of girls, any one of which would gladly come over to this room and relieve his boredom.  
  
Nice girls. Pretty girls, with vacant stares and vapid expressions. No pressure, no expectations….  
  
No real feelings involved.  
  
He sighed, laying back on the bed.   
  
It was time to do something about this.  
  


  
Present Day, Three Weeks Later__

  
"Look, lady," He exploded as he intentionally elongated the last word, implying she was really nothing of the sort. It was the what? Fourth? Fifth time she'd 'brushed' against him. Subtlety was not called for here, and he doubted she was even aware of the concept.  
  
"I'm not looking to get laid, I'm not looking for companionship, I am just standing here figuring out the most painful way to snap a few limbs, okay?" He yelled.  
  
The woman backed away nervously. "So-rry." She drawled. He turned his attention back to Step—his eyes searched the area frantically where was she? His eye caught a bright flash of purple at an exit—and she was with him! Damn it! He plowed through the dancers around him and took the stairs down to the floor in threes.  
  



	2. How to Be: Pathetic

How to Be: Pathetic  
  
  
"Move, now!" Hunter demanded. He shoved a guy out of his path but for the most part when people saw him barreling through the crowd they parted rather quickly.  
  
Hunter threw the door open, and looked around. To his left was an alley, so they had to have gone right. He took off in a sprint.  
  
He heard faint laughter, but he knew, he could feel it, it was her. Galvanized, he sped up.  
  
He didn't know why it was so important, but he just had to stop her from leaving the club with that guy.  
  
He supposed it was yet another previously never felt, unheard of side-effect of obsession:  
  
Jealousy.  
  
He had to say, it really, really sucked.  
  
He wasn't used to it. He never had been jealous…of anyone before. Yeah, sure Angle had ticked him off for a bit there, but he'd never been seriously worried.  
  
Stephanie was his. She knew it, he knew it, everybody and their damn *cat* knew it.  
  
He hoped he didn't have to suddenly have a reason to *get* used to it.  
  
Because, yeah, it really, really, sucked.  
  
It made him do crazy things, such as the things he'd been doing over the past three weeks.  
  
Like, well…  
  
Stalking her for one. He'd tracked her itinerary, which was so pathetically easy. If he'd been out to actually do something to her, to hurt her in some way, it appalled him to think how simple it would really be. So: Mental Note to Self: First chance he got, he was going to overhaul Stephanie's security standards.  
  
There were a lot of whacked out people out there, and he sure as hell didn't want them anywhere near his woman.  
  
He'd somehow found himself wandering around her hotels, scoping out her room. He'd actually been reduced to ducking around potted plants, like some huge 260 pound super spy or something. He didn't really blend in with the walls as much as he had hoped he would. It seemed he had something of a presence that other people tended to notice.  
  
He didn't really know why he was acting like this, why any of this was happening.   
  
Ah, hell, who was he kidding? Of course he knew why. He wanted to know if there was something he should be aware of before he went ahead with any of this full force.  
  
Something like…a boyfriend.  
  
Or something.   
  
It wasn't like he'd been keeping track of her before his epiphany seeing her in the black tank top. He'd been more than happy to pretend she'd never really existed, she was just some kind of hideous nightmare he wanted no recollection of. He hadn't kept track of her, just…basically ignored her existence.  
  
Part of him still couldn't believe he'd managed to block her out so completely these past months. What had he been, on crack, or something? How could he have forgotten how her hair had smelt spread out on the pillow? How could he have forgotten how she always put strawberry lip gloss on after she put on her lipstick, just because she *knew* he liked the taste? How could he have forgotten how good that little spot on her neck right below her jugular and right above that tiny little hollow in her neck tasted?  
  
Like he'd said, Ric must have been drugging his water or something, 'cause now these things, all these thousands of little things that screamed "Stephanie!" were all he could think about, were all he could see.   
  
****  
  
He didn't like the fact she'd seemed to have…sparkage…with his ass of a former boss. He wasn't an idiot. She was an attractive woman after all. She had a lot to offer a man.   
  
But damned if she'd be offering anything to any other man other than him, not if he had anything to say about it.  
  
And that's what this whole thing was about, after all, being able to get the right back to have something to say about it.  
  
So what if what he'd been doing over the past few weeks was considered to be highly illegal in most—okay, well, all states?  
  
This was for Stephanie's sake as much as his.  
  
His dedication had proved to be well worth the time. He'd come to the conclusion she simply lived to work. She didn't go out, she didn't do anything but go to work and go back to the hotel. Then she'd repeat the pattern in a whole different city. It had been rough, tracking her while making sure he still showed up for work himself, but he'd coordinated it admirably, he thought.  
  
He'd been about to make his move, declare his intentions, to well, seduce her, for lack of a better word, when she'd messed up his detailed, carefully planned scenario.  
  
She'd changed her pattern. Instead of going back to her hotel room, all alone, as had been the curiously reassuring case these past nights, she'd actually gone out.  
  
Not to just some casual little restaurant, either, noooo, not Stephanie.  
  
When she went out, she went to places like this. Places he'd been the one to introduce her to.   
  
Places where a girl could meet a guy for one night and never see one another again.  
  
Places that only reaffirmed the fact that he'd actually once taken her to these kinds of clubs only proved what kind of a moron he truly was.  
  
There was…another key part to his plan. In addition to the aforementioned stalking, he'd also taken on a very hands-on role in his contract negotiations with Raw.   
  
He'd never mentioned it to Stephanie, or Ric, of course, but his contract held a special proviso where he would be able to leave Raw after six months and…pursue other options if he saw fit.  
  
He'd exercised that proviso last night, much to Eric's dissatisfaction. Eric had screamed. Whined. Moaned. Then Cried.  
  
It had been kinda funny, in a pitiful sort of way. The end result was of course that….  
  
Hunter Hearst-Helmsley was now once again a free agent…  
  
In more ways than one.  
  
So he'd done something he'd never, ever thought he would do.  
  
He had voluntarily called his ever-beloved ex-father in law. He'd carefully explained the fact that he was more than willing to take on Hogan and rid the WWE of the jackass once and for all. He'd have to go to Smackdown in order to provide that service, of course.  
  
Strangely enough, Vince wasn't persuaded to allow him to sign with Smackdown and be in his precious daughter's sphere of influence once again.  
  
Hunter decided it was time for hard ball and casually mentioned the fact he'd come across certain...interesting pictures of a young candy striper named "Lulu", and Vince McMahon himself, complete with stethoscope and doctor's coat…and nothing else on. They were playing an adorable version of 'Doctor.'  
  
Vince had signed him to Smackdown late last evening. And on Hunter's special additional request, he hadn't told his daughter.  
  
Hunter had wanted the pleasure of that all to himself.  
  
And then she'd gone and ruined the great speech he'd had planned by disrupting her routine!  
  
Damn, exasperating, infuriating woman.  
  
And…there she was now, climbing into Purple Shirt's car.  
  
"Hey, wait up!" He yelled, no longer caring about irrelevant things such as pride or dignity.  
  
"Stephanie!" He called again when it became apparent she hadn't heard him. Purple guy revved the engine of his puny little sports car.  
  
Neither of them seemed to notice the 260 pound man running wildly after the car.  
  
Well, neither of them seemed to notice…  
  
But then again, Stephanie had always had something of a sixth sense of sorts about her ex-husband's presence.


	3. How to Be: Afraid

Rating: Hard PG-13. Certain situations implied at the end. Exercise good reading judgment (is that even a term?) if you decide to read this. I don't want to post anything more, that will spoil the story, but you've been warned of a potentially controversial plot twist.   
  
Part III--How to Be: Afraid  
  
Outskirts of Las Vegas, Nevada  
  
  
Stephanie closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of the wind on her face. Her hair was fast become a tangled mess but she didn't especially care. She was free, free from her pathetic and monotonous existence…at least for this one night.  
  
She bit her lip to hide the grin from John. When she'd seen the tall, blonde man chasing after them in the alley behind the club, she hadn't thought much of it. He must have mistaken them for some other people….  
  
But then she'd recognized *the* voice as belonging to Hunter. It had taken everything in her not to turn around and acknowledge his presence. Strength (or was it pride) had finally, finally prevailed in her and she had been able to completely block out his presence.  
  
She was over him, dammit. For the first time in so very long she had decided to finally act her age. She was still in her twenties, her early twenties, for God's sake! She wasn't some old spinster who had nothing to do but sit at home and crochet pot holders. And contrary to what seemed to be popular opinion these days, she most certainly was not a workaholic ice queen with no life outside of being the General Manager of Smackdown and Vince McMahon's spoiled only daughter.  
  
She was a woman. A young, reasonably attractive and interesting young woman.  
  
And it was damn time she started acting like it again, and after all, that was what tonight was all about. Having fun because she deserved it. An evening with no strings, no expectations, nothing to get confused about or be afraid of because….  
  
There were no feelings involved, so there was absolutely no way she could get hurt.  
  
The club had been fun. She'd danced, she'd met some great people and…  
  
Now she was in a car with one of them. John. She'd been a little intimidated by him at first but she'd decided she was just being silly. He was tall, well-muscled. It wasn't like she wasn't used to being around huge men though, and quite frankly she loved the feeling of being with someone stronger than she was. It made her feel safe, protected.   
  
Well at least being with Hunter had made her feel that way. He'd dwarfed her with his size but she'd never felt physically intimidated with him…it was different with John.  
  
She wondered where that thought had come from, the fact she was…uncomfortable right now. The air was clearing her head a little bit and it felt like her brain was shifting into whole new gears.  
  
She was in a car with a guy named John and she didn't even know his last name. Should she ask his last name? Would he even tell her if she asked? Because if she asked and he didn't tell her, God, how humiliating would that even be? What if she asked and he laughed at her because, hey, isn't finding out somebody's last name on the proverbial 'to do' list before you agree to get in a car and go to their apartment in freakin' Las Vegas?  
  
She was babbling in her head. Too many thoughts too fast.   
  
Shewasinacarwithaguyandshewasprobablygoingtohavesexwith  
himandshedidntevenknowhislastnameorevenhisfavoritedamn  
colorandshedidntknowanythingabouthimatall!!!   
  
Her breath was coming more frequently. She needed to slow this down, she needed to have a moment to figure out what she was doing, what she wanted to have happen…  
  
And most of all she needed to figure out why some small (yet very vocal) part of her soul was doing a happy little dance—well, it was more like her soul was doing a freakin' *fiesta* at the fact that her soulless bastard of an ex-husband had actually followed her to a nightclub out in the middle of the desert of Nevada. It wasn't like he could have been in the neighborhood or anything….  
  
He'd come for her.  
  
And why did that mean so much all of a sudden? Why hadn't she turned around, found out why he was there, what he wanted? It was her stupid, stubborn McMahon pride.   
  
She really hated genetics sometimes. Made you do all sorts of crazy, stupid things.  
  
Stephanie licked her lips and shifted in the seat to face John. She didn't realize her dress had completely shifted up, it was now entangled around her thighs.  
  
"John?" She said loudly, in order to be heard over the wind. "John!" She repeated and he finally glanced over. He smiled at her rumpled appearance. "Heya, gorgeous." He smiled and for some reason, Stephanie felt an uncomfortable chill in the base of her neck.   
  
"I'm kind of hungry…do you mind if we stop at a restaurant or something. I saw a sign a couple miles ago. It should be coming up soon."  
  
"We'll eat when we get to my place. Don't worry, I always take care of my women."  
  
Stephanie blinked. Oo-kay. "Well, no offense, but you don't exactly seem like you'd be the kind of guy who can cook, and I'm starved. We'll stop and we'll eat, then we'll go to your apartment, okay?" She made her voice as light as she possibly could.  
  
"I already told you, we can eat when we get back to my place. Trust me, I have plenty of food."  
  
But. That. Wasn't. The. Point! Stephanie exhaled. "Oh, hey, a gas station! Can we at least get something to drink?"  
  
John looked over at her, his face shifting from looking irritated to…something else.  
  
"Yeah, of course." He shifted the car into the gas station's lot. "I'll go in. What do you want?"  
  
"I can come in."  
  
"Ah, don't worry about it. It's no problem."  
  
"Evian water then?"  
  
He stopped midway getting out of the car but resumed walking. "Sure thing."  
  
Stephanie pulled her cell phone out of her purse and stared at it for a minute. The curiosity was eating her alive. She pushed speed dial one…Why was Hunter still Speed Dial one? Why hadn't she noticed that before?   
  
No reception. Stephanie looked over her surroundings in frustration. She was in the middle of the freakin' desert, of course there wouldn't be any signal. Damn. She shoved the cell back in her purse and opened the car door. She blinked when it shut back against her. Stephanie looked up to see John smiling down at her.   
  
"I'm back!" He handed her a…soda? "Cherry coke?" She said doubtfully. "I asked for water." He was walking around the car.  
  
"They didn't have any. Sorry about that."  
  
"No water, not a single kind? That's…." Really weird. "Maybe you missed it, I can go look and find some." But no, she couldn't, he was already shifting the car into gear and pulling out of the gas station.  
  
"John! Come on, what's wrong with you?" She demanded, wondering what the hell was going on.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about, Stephanie. You said you were thirsty, I got you something to drink. So they didn't have your fancy bottled water. Get over it." He snorted.  
  
But once again: That. Wasn't. Even. The. Point. Stephanie pushed the straw into the cup and took a sip. Jeez, what a jerk.   
  
"So, what do you do for a living?" She asked, trying to make conversation at least.   
  
"Me?" No, not you, the other guy in the car a voice screamed snarkily.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I'm a systems analyst."  
  
"Oh? That sounds—" Boring as hell. "Fascinating. Really, really interesting. What kind of systems do you analyze?" She queried.  
  
"You know what? I don't really feel like talking right now. Let's just put some music on the radio and we can listen to that, okay?"  
  
Stephanie nodded, taking another drink. Maybe this was what the dating scene was like these days. It wasn't like she had ever really dated after all, so how was she supposed to know. Maybe people just went around and slept with each other at random? In high school she'd been such a total geek no one had ever asked her out and she'd been to chicken to actually go out in the first place. In college she'd been so consumed with her studies she'd never actually had a date outside of her books. And then she'd gone straight to work with Dad, and the men she worked with on a daily basis weren't exactly the best potential mate material. They were loud, they were crude, or obnoxious, they were psychotic in some instances.  
  
At least most of them…except for one. Stephanie shifted in her seat again and pulled her hair behind her head. She settled into the leather upholstery. Oh well. So this night hadn't gone like she planned. No big deal. When she got to John's apartment, wherever the hell that was, she'd just tell him she was sorry and she needed to just leave. He'd probably be mad, he could have left that club with any one of a dozen other girls, but he'd get over it.   
  
Then she'd go find a pay phone and go call her ex-husband. Maybe he'd come pick her up or something. Then she could find out whatever it was he'd been chasing after her to tell her.  
  
Yeah. That was a nice plan. Good plan. Very mature. No sleeping with rude guys she didn't really want to sleep with anyway, she thought fuzzily. She gulped down another drink of the soda, and the condensation from the cup dripped down her hand. She wiped it on her dress and smiled over at John who was suddenly looking at her.   
  
"My hand was all wet." She explained, holding it up for him to see. "I have pretty hands, don't you think so? Hunter always told me I have really long fingers, but he liked them anyway. I never thought I had long fingers, do you think I have long fingers?" Stephanie swallowed as her hand seemed to disappear in front of her. "Whoa. Cool." She whispered, as she looked at her hand, watching it disappear and reappear.   
  
She smiled over at John again. "My hand keeps moving!" She giggled. And now there was another part of her brain that was making an appearance. It was whispering something wasn't quite right here. That in fact….  
  
Something was terribly, terribly wrong….  
  
Stephanie stopped giggling abruptly and she felt her hand crush the Styrofoam cup. The soda leaked all over her, all over the car. "I don't feel so good." She whimpered.  
  
"Don't worry, you'll feel a whole lot better soon, I promise." She tilted her head toward John again, saw his eyes glitter against the twinkle of the desert stars and…something in his face…it was so cold….  
  
Oh, God, what had she gotten herself into?


	4. How to Be: Possesive

Rating: Same as last, but this one has a positive public service announcement in it! Go, me! LOL  
  
Part IV—How to Be: Possessive  
  
  
Back at The Club  
  
  
Hunter watched as the car pulled out of the alley, aghast.  
  
She had ignored him! He felt certain at that last moment there she had heard him yelling after the car and she had completely blown him off.  
  
He stood stupefied in the alley—but only for a second. Then the general feeling of rage and oh-damn-there it was again—jealousy—took over and spurred him to action. He went back in the club and looked around for Sailor-Boy—he and Purple Shirt seemed to know each other when they'd been dancing with Stephanie.  
  
And speak of the devil, there was Sailor-Boy, dancing with some kind of movement that seemed to be in direct opposition to the rhythm of the music. The girl he was banging up against looked lost and bewildered.  
  
Hunter had pity. He pulled on Sailor-Boy and slammed him against the wall.  
  
"Youridiotofafriendinthepurpleshirttookmywifesome  
whereandidamnwellwanttoknowwhere!" He yelled straight in the guy's face.  
  
Sailor-Boy stared at him slack jawed. He looked down at the massive arms holding him up against the wall and Hunter saw the little slimeball begin to sweat.  
  
"Huh?" He asked, blinking up at Hunter.  
  
It was then Hunter noticed the guy's eyes had glazed over…speed, he guessed.   
  
"Dude, don't know what you just said at all." He whined. Hunter felt his eyes roll. It was just like in his frat days. All the so-called 'cool' guys did meth, heroin, you name it, somebody in the house was into it, had tried it or was currently in rehab for it….  
  
Except for Hunter. He'd seen how that shit screwed with people's heads and had stayed clear from the beginning. One of the most puzzling aspects of the drug use had to definitely be the increased propensity to use the word "dude." Hunter had come to the conclusion if people said 'dude' they were usually high as a kite. Either that or trapped in early nineties California.  
  
He realized he'd perhaps spoken a little quickly for the peon's mind to keep up with, so he grabbed ahold of what little patience he could and inhaled.   
  
"The woman. You were dancing with her tonight—"  
  
"What woman? I danced with a lot of women—"  
  
"The one with the long brown hair. Blue eyes, sometimes in the light they look like ice chips and then the next second they look like the ocean. You were dancing with her about three minutes ago with some guy in a fugly purple shirt."  
  
"Yeah? So?"  
  
"So, I want to know where this guy lives."  
  
"What for?"  
  
"You don't need to know that you little weasel! All you need to know is if you don't tell me in two seconds I'm gonna take you up to the little catwalk up there and throw you off it!" Hunter snarled, driving his kneecap into the guy's thigh for emphasis.  
  
Oomph. "Dddduuuuddee…why don't you just chill, man, okay? Don't worry, the little lady is having a great time of it with my boy John."  
  
"That would be precisely the point. I don't want her having a great time of it with 'your boy!' Hunter sneered.  
  
"Oh, Ddduuuuuuudeee. I totally get it. She's your lady, man? That's rough."  
  
"Shut the fuck up already and tell me where this guy took her!" Hunter screamed.  
  
Sailor-Boy blinked. "You coulda just asked, dude. Guess I could tell you...uh, his address is on the Strip. Uhhhhh… The Meridian. Big apartment building. Can't miss it. Right across from UCLV. Apartment…uh…343B. Yeah. That's it, man. Go get your woman, dude, but don't mess with my boy John. She never said she was involved, not when she was shaking—"  
  
Hunter threw the guy over a table and he blissfully was out cold. The girl he'd been dancing with before started giggling. She walked away laughing. Hunter kicked the guy for a final measure and muttered "Yeah, dude, sleep it off."  
  
He went outside, climbed into his rental car, a silver Jag, and sped down the highway. The Maniac in the Jag, all the way. Luckily, he'd been to Las Vegas many times in his youth…He knew right where UCLV was, he'd had a lot of…friends…who went there.  
  
The gambling, the women…Las Vegas was Hunter's city. Always had been.   
  
It would be again.  
  
****  
  
John eased Stephanie on to his shoulder and leaned her upright so it looked like she was walking on her own. Reality was she was being completely carried by John, her body was boneless.   
  
She couldn't stop gasping. She'd stopped giggling a few minutes ago once she'd realized what was happening… The son-of-a-bitch had drugged her soda, that's why he wouldn't get her water, it wouldn't mask the taste of the drug!  
  
She tried to get her voice to work, to scream, to just tell someone what was happening to her, God, they were passing so many people, why couldn't any of them see something was wrong?  
  
Her voice wouldn't work. Nothing would work…she told her body to move, to run, just, God, do anything but it mocked her incessantly by its refusal to listen.  
  
She was going to be—she was—  
  
She was going to be raped, and unlike most women, she knew she was going to be hurt…  
  
And she was still helpless to do anything about it.  
  
She wished she had just turned around and confronted Hunter.  
  
She wished she could start kicking, start doing something to this asshole.  
  
She wished she wasn't here at all.  
  
She wished she'd just stayed at home tonight, just like she had been for the past year.  
  
She really wanted to cry but the tears wouldn't come and she wanted to breathe but her chest was so tight it felt like she was going to pass out.   
  
But she wouldn't let that happen. She would stay awake, she would know, damn it, she would remember everything this guy was going to do to her…  
  
Not knowing would be worse than just giving into the feeling of lethargy passing over her, she knew that. She tried again to motion to someone in the hall, but they didn't see.   
  
Nobody saw.  
  
Or if they did, they all thought she was drunk.  
  
She felt herself being steadied against the wall and there was the turn of the key in the lock. She heard John mutter "Damn. I'm going to have to have the manager come by in the morning. Lock's broken." But none of that registered. She was pulled into a room—God, no, no—and the door shut behind her. Once they were safely inside the room, John let her slump to the floor in an undignified heap.   
  
"Nothing looks like it's been stolen at least." He said softly as he looked around his apartment.  
  
Fuck you! Stephanie screamed inside.   
  
"You're probably wondering why I'd bring you to a place full of people. You were probably picturing some isolated, out of the way house in the country, right?" John asked.  
  
Actually, no, Stephanie thought, she hadn't been wondering that at all. She had been really wondering why she did everything in her life wrong and how it had all lead up to her being here in this precise moment in time.   
  
"Well, just so you know, I don't usually bring dates to my apartment—"  
  
Date? This wasn't a date, you sick freak!  
  
"But you're special. The only sad thing is, you won't remember any of this. None of it at all. I'll have all these beautiful memories of you and you won't have a single one of me."  
  
Stephanie was going to be sick right here on his two thousand dollar Persian rug, she knew it.   
  
"Well, I suppose we've had enough time for chatter, haven't we, my darling? Let's get this—" Stephanie was almost watching from outside of herself at this point, it was like she was in two different places, one inside her body that wouldn't move, the other outside…an impartial observer of sorts. She saw with a kind of disconnected startlement as John pitched forward. He was bleeding from the head, blood dripping, staining the Persian rug.  
  
At least it was getting ruined by something, and this was so much better than her own vomit, she thought distantly. Her eyes blinked fuzzily and in her line of vision there was something else entirely when she blinked them back open.  
  
Dimly, she was aware of Hunter's voice calling "Princess? Stephanie? Steph!" He yelled into her face, but she couldn't summon the strength to speak. She tried to smile but her lips couldn't quite manage it.   
  
She felt herself being lifted up by arms she'd know anywhere, in any time, up off the floor and into the hallway. Brown eyes looked into blue and she knew she was safe now.   
  
Whispered words told her she was going to be okay, he had driven so fast, he was so glad he had driven so fast, he didn't know, and she was his, she was safe with him always....  
  
She wanted to cry.  
  
She wanted to say thank you.  
  
She wanted to go back in there and bludgeon John some more.  
  
She didn't want to be anywhere else but right here, right now.  
  
She finally passed out.


	5. How to Be: Drunk

Part V—How to Be: Drunk  
  
  
Hunter looked across the seat of the Jag at a still unconscious Stephanie for what felt like the thousandth time. He found himself placing his hand over her throat every couple minutes, just to make sure her breathing was still steady.  
  
If his hand lingered there longer than it should have, there was no one to know.  
  
He contemplated bringing Stephanie to a hospital but he knew Stephanie wouldn't want to deal with the fallout. Vince would throw a fit, her mother would be concerned and it would be all over the press. She wouldn't want to deal with any of this at work and if it became public, she would have to.  
  
So instead he went to an isolated payphone outside a gas station, taking care to park the Jag out of the way of the security cameras. He tucked his long hair behind him and threw it all under a baseball cap, just in case there was a camera he wasn't seeing by the phone. Hunter called the police, told them there was a man unconscious, and where. He also told them what had happened to Steph, leaving out her name and any details.   
  
The police could do whatever the hell they wanted from there. Hunter felt certain that Stephanie wasn't this guy's first victim and if the police started digging, they'd find plenty they could use on the bastard. If it somehow got traced back to her, he'd help her deal with it. Either way, he knew that she would want the s.o.b. stopped.  
  
He started to climb back in the car but realized while he'd been gone, she'd slipped so she was now lying completely across the front seat. He gently pushed her back up so her seat belt was no longer tangled up around her. He pulled the car into gear and drove around until he decided to take her to a hotel he knew was good yet discreet. He walked around the car and unfastened the seatbelt. He pulled her into his arms and felt himself frown as she fell against him limply.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Princess." He felt compelled to whisper in her hair.  
  
" 'S'okay." She mumbled.  
  
He pushed her away from his chest so he could look at her. "You awake, Steph?" He asked.  
  
"Kind of. Maybe." She whispered. "My head hurts."  
  
"I'm not surprised." He told her.  
  
"What—what's going on?"  
  
"Nothing, baby. Don't worry about it. You're safe, promise."  
  
"Ok." She said. He felt a ridiculous urge to laugh at her easy belief in his words.  
  
"Where are we going?" She asked against his chest.   
  
"Hotel." He told her. "But first, since you can't really walk, I need to get you in a more comfortable position okay?" He lifted her onto the hood of the jag so her legs dangled over the side. "Wrap your legs around me now." He told her. Blue eyes opened dizzily but she complied immediately. She loosely hung her arms around his neck and he adjusted his hold.  
  
"Good, that's so good." He told her.   
  
"Mmm. 'k." He walked with her easily up to the hotel. To his credit, the clerk at the front desk didn't blink an eye at the man with a woman wrapped around his body.  
  
"We need a room for the night." Hunter told him.  
  
"Hmm. Let's see what we have open…."  
  
"Price doesn't matter. Whatever's closest." Hunter said shortly.  
  
"That would be the Honeymoon Suite." Hunter froze for a moment.   
  
"Sure." Why the hell not? "Here's a credit card." He fumbled through his back pocket and fished out his wallet.  
  
"Ah. Your key, then, Mr. Helmsley. And I wish you two a pleasant stay at our establishment." The clerk said dutifully.  
  
Hunter shoved his wallet back in the pocket and nodded. "Yeah, thanks." He followed the signs in the lobby and found the—the Honeymoon Suite. He couldn't help it. He burst out laughing and it echoed down the corridor.  
  
"Your chest is shaking." Stephanie complained incoherently.   
  
"Sorry 'bout that." He told her as he slid the key home and swung open the door with one hand. He started to laugh again when he saw the room.  
  
The whole damn thing was done up in red and white silks. It was really nice, very tasteful, he thought, but the fact it was the Honeymoon Suite caused no end of mirth. He wished Steph was more awake. She'd just glare at him, be pissed he was *laughing* but he still wished she was cognizant.   
  
Ah, well. He'd deal with the cards he'd been dealt. He shifted Stephanie's legs around him and untangled her arms from his neck. He lay her flat along the bed and pulled the covers over her. No…no, this wouldn't work. He pulled off her shoes, then he decided she must be uncomfortable with the pantyhose…so off those went too.   
  
And it simply wouldn't do to allow her one and only outfit they had with him to wrinkle, would it? Wouldn't be…gentlemanly. He grinned to himself. He pulled the skirt down her legs and saw she was wearing…a slip. Damn. He lifted her head from the pillow and pulled off the second half of the dress, the sleeveless top. He folded the clothing carefully and put it on the bureau. He stared down at her for a moment, her silky hair twisted up on the white silk of the pillowcase, her legs tangled up in the bedding. He didn't feel like taking a shower or anything, besides, what if she woke up and she was afraid? He didn't want her to wake up alone. So he shrugged out of his clothes, folded them next to hers, shut off the lights and pushed back the covers on the other side of the bed. He felt Stephanie shift closer and inhaled as he listened to her slide against the sheets. He forced himself to remain absolutely still and he inched over toward the edge of the mattress.   
  
"Hunter?" Her voice was so quiet he wasn't sure he'd really heard it, or imagined it.   
  
"Hmm?" He asked it quietly enough so as not to wake her if he had actually imagined it.  
  
"I know it's a lot to ask, but…could you just…I mean, just for tonight….could you hold me?" She whispered and though it was only across the length of the mattress, it felt like it came from across miles. He'd never felt so far from her before.  
  
Wordlessly, he slid across the sheets and pulled her to him, tucking her head underneath his chin.   
  
"Thank you." She said a moment later.  
  
"For what?" He asked, genuinely surprised.  
  
"For—for everything, Hunter. I'll never be able to repay you for what you did for me tonight."  
  
He swallowed. "He almost—hurt—you, Steph."  
  
"He didn't. Thanks to you. He didn't. It's okay." Something in Hunter's chest gave way at this and he felt liquid on his face.  
  
Holy…was he crying? Jesus. He inhaled shakily, determined not to let her know.  
  
But this was him, and this was Stephanie, and damn if she didn't always *know*. A soft hand reached up and stroked his cheek, blending the tear into his skin.  
  
"If he'd hurt you, I would have killed him." He said a minute later.  
  
"I know."  
  
"I'm serious, I—"  
  
"I know."  
  
He went quiet at this. They lay in silence for a time. Finally he whispered "Steph?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I think I'm hungry." That…wasn't what he had intended to say.  
  
"Yeah, me too. I think I'm up for actually walking now. You want to head downstairs?"  
  
"No room service?"  
  
"No."   
  
He knew then. He knew she was feeling the same thing he'd been feeling seconds ago, that they had to get out of this damn room. It was getting too…heavy for both of them. He felt the mattress raise briefly as she rose from the bed and listened as she felt around in the darkness and zipped up her skirt. She tossed his clothes onto the mattress and he pulled them on.   
  
The two walked downstairs and ended up in the bar.   
  
She ordered a scotch and he stared at her. "I want to forget this damn night ever happened." She said as she noticed his probing look.  
  
"Should you be drinking that? What if it interacts with the drugs?" He asked, even as he ordered a beer and sat on the stool next to her.  
  
She made an exasperated sound at him. "Funny. You don't look like my mother, or sound like her, but with the words coming out of your mouth, I'd swear you were her."  
  
He downed the rest of his beer in a single gulp, determined not to let her bait him. She was spoiling for a fight, he could see that clearly, and he wasn't going to be the one to give it to her.  
  
"Bartender!" She slammed her hand on the table. "We're already out of drinks! Keep 'em coming." She drawled in a faux Southern accent. She raised her eyes to his as their drinks were refilled.  
  
"What shall we drink to?" She asked, holding up her tiny shot glass to his massive mug.  
  
"To…" He searched the room for inspiration.  
  
"To Vegas!" She said, answering her own question and clinked the glasses. She downed the shot and he watched her grimace as it burned down her throat.  
  
It was getting warm in here. Yeah, sure, they were in the Nevada desert, of course it would be hot, but weren't deserts supposed to be cold at night? He tugged at the top button of his shirt and thumbed it open. He saw his action register in Stephanie's eyes from the way they narrowed on his throat. She watched as his muscles swallowed the drink, her empty glass being refilled by the bartender.   
  
She turned her attention back the glass and with a heavy sigh, threw it back.   
  
The Next Morning  
  
Stephanie woke up with her mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton. She pushed herself up on her elbows and squinted, trying to get some bearing on her surroundings. Her hand snaked out and connected with warm…muscle? She pulled back her hand hurriedly—oh, God, it was John, Hunter rescuing her had all just been a wonderful dream, but she was really here, and still with him—the thoughts flung around her brain and she felt the adrenaline start to rush through her body.  
  
Almost immediately the urge to throw up followed and she blindly headed for a door—and thank God, yes, it was a bathroom. She retched into the toilet and when she felt like it might be possible to stand up again without the room feeling like it was alive around her, she got to her feet. She peered cautiously around the corner of the bathroom door at the sleeping man sprawled along the bed.  
  
The golden limbs did not belong to that creep. They belonged to…  
  
Hunter. She felt a giggle pop out of her mouth. OhGodohGodohGodohGod…what had she done—what had they done last night? She swayed over to the bed, couldn't quite make it so instead she collapsed in a giggling heap on the floor.   
  
She and Hunter…had…had….The thoughts caused yet more nervous laughter. She raised her hand to cover her mouth, she didn't want to wake him….  
  
And that was when she noticed the ring on her left finger. She stared at her hand for a silent moment. She hurriedly pulled herself onto the bed and crawled over Hunter's body to look at his hand.  
  
OhGodohGodohGodohGod…..She inhaled and could feel her stomach doing half gainers. She licked her dry lips and looked around the room. Her gaze fell upon a videotape lying carelessly on the table by the door. She hastily shoved the tape into the small VCR, turned the television on, pushed play and….  
  
The television sprang to life with her and Hunter on the screen, leaning on each other and drunkenly slurring the words to "You Light Up My Life".   
  
They weren't even the right lyrics. Or the right melody.   
  
Stephanie pulled her knees to her chest and buried her head in them.   
  
Oh, God, it had happened again!


	6. How to Be: HungOver

Warning: This is...possibly the stupidest (or funniest) thing I've ever written. I wrote it while high on allergy medication...so be forewarned. This is a no-drink by the computer chapter, okay?   
  
We are in the home stretch now, my people! Next up is "How to Be: Loved" and that will conclude the How To Be Series. 

  
And....here we go:  
  
Part VI--How to Be: Hung-Over  
  
  
Stephanie snuck another glance at Hunter even as she hit the pause button. She felt a sudden impulse to just run, just get the hell out of there, but…they'd done this to themselves, they'd have to work together to get out of it. Her fingers tightened around the bed post and she quickly pulled away from it when she realized her nails were actually making gouges in the wood. She rose from the floor and she picked up her pillow.   
  
She flung it across his chest, hard.  
  
"Wake up!" She snarled.  
  
Hunter awoke to the vision of an angel.  
  
An angel clad in only a tight t-shirt that read "Just Married at the Costra Chapel and Casino!" in bright green neon. An angel who's hair twisted around her in a dizzyingly beautiful silky array. He couldn't stifle the smile that appeared on his face.  
  
This only seemed to infuriate her even more. He raised himself on his elbows letting the sheet tumble to his waist. He watched as she suddenly licked her lips in silent satisfaction.  
  
She recovered quickly. Damn man and his…his…his chest. She thought. Why, why, why did he have to be so beautiful?   
  
His voice broke through her rising anger: "Was there something you wanted?" The smugness in his voice grated on her and she struck him with the pillow again.  
  
Stephanie strolled over to the VCR with a casualness that was completely feigned. "Was there something I wanted?" She parroted back at him in a falsetto voice. "Watch. This." She gritted out. Hunter's eyes widened and he crawled over to the end of the bed.  
  
Stephanie ignored the fact he was completely naked.   
  
Ignored.  
  
It.  
  
She slumped to the floor, leaning on the back of the bed frame and Hunter propped himself up on his elbows on the edge of the bed. Their heads were right next to one another. She pushed the rewind button, then, pressed play.   
  
She cringed and heard Hunter's disbelieving grunt next to her ear.  
  
They were on the screen in full live color. She was wearing…  
  
Red silk? Red freakin' silk?   
  
The camera panned in on Hunter who…who…Stephanie bit back her laughter.   
  
He had a fake mustache on. To top it off, it was black.   
  
And crooked.  
  
Hunter's voice seemed to carry from very far away. "That's right…we picked the "Gone With the Wind" theme!" He said distantly, remembering.  
  
Stephanie continued to stare at the screen in denial. That wasn't her. Couldn't be. She had…had a twin sister given up at birth or something. She'd have to call her mother.  
  
Oh, God, they were speaking. She pushed up the volume louder. She cringed as her high-pitched voice floated across the screen. "Let's get this show on the road! I don't have all night!"  
  
"Yeah!" On-Screen Hunter said. "We paid $149.95 for the wedding of our dreams, and by God, we'll have it!"  
  
The cameraman spoke. "Very well, Mr. Helmsley. Miss McMahon. Why don't you step on up to the altar then?"  
  
Stephanie started to cry, which caused Hunter to look at her, concerned.   
  
"Princess, what's wrong?"   
  
"I wanted…I wanted…" She hiccuped.  
  
"What did you want, Angel?" He murmured soothingly.  
  
"I wanted to walk down the aisle!" She cried.  
  
"Well, sure. Why not?" He said. He shot a venomous glare at the cameraman. "You got a problem with that?"  
  
Even if he had had a problem with that, there was no way the cameraman would have said so underneath that stare.  
  
"Sure thing, Miss McMahon!" He said cheerily. "It's your big day after all!"  
  
Stephanie brightened. She ran down to the end of the room. Her run was quite unsteady and she crashed into a couple of pews, but she steadied herself quickly. "Do I get music?" She called.  
  
"Give her some music, Flor!" The cameraman yelled. A small piano in the corner started playing the wedding march. Stephanie smiled and walked down the aisle, taking small steps. They were so small in fact Hunter got impatient and told her to hurry it up.  
  
"Hey! This is my wedding day, you jerk. And it'll take as long as I want it to take, damn it!" And Stephanie, much to Hunter's infuriated dismay proceeded to take even smaller steps.  
  
"You know, if a snail were walking next to you, he would've left you in the dust." Hunter cracked.   
  
The minister cleared his throat, spoke for the first time. "Ah, Miss McMahon, I'm sorry, but we have our next couple coming in for about five minutes from now. Isn't that right?" The minister asked the cameraman.   
  
"Oh, yeah, the Friday the 13th theme wedding."  
  
"So I would suggest we move this along."  
  
Stephanie sighed, but she walked the few feet and stood next to Hunter. She was swaying slightly, so she leaned on Hunter's arm. "That's okay. I was getting kinda dizzy, anyhow." She told her husband-to-be.  
  
The minister began reading their vows.   
  
And then it was time to recite their own parts.  
  
"I Stephanie, take you—take you—Triple—eh—Hunter! Yeah, that's riii-ght (hiccup)--Take you Hunter to be my—"  
  
Stephanie watched in horror as her videotaped self seemed to blanch white.   
  
"Oh, God, I'm gonna throw up!" She yelled. The minister looked alarmed but Hunter just told him to keep going. "No, you're not." He said firmly. "Not till you're finished reciting. We've only got a few more minutes."  
  
Stephanie groaned. "Where…where was I?"  
  
The minister asked "Miss McMahon, are you sure you're in a state to be getting married?"  
  
"Jackass, you already have asked us that twice! Don't ask again! She's fine, we're fine, let's just do this already!" Hunter yelled, unaware that his fake mustache had fallen off while he was shouting. He looked decidedly less-Rhett Butler-ish without it.  
  
"Miss McMahon?" The minister pressed.  
  
"Yeah. I love him." She said simply.  
  
The minister's face softened. "Very well then. Do you take this man to be your husband?"  
  
"I do." She said.  
  
"And do you…"  
  
"I Hunter, take you, Stephanie, to be my lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and health, for richer and poorer, all that good stuff, yeah, yeah. I do." Hunter strung out all in one breath, anxious to get this nice and legal.  
  
"Then I am happy to pronounce you man and wife. Let no man tear this union asunder."  
  
"Would you say it already?" Hunter growled.  
  
"Say—say what?" The minister asked, genuinely confused. At Hunter's vaguely obsene gesture, he straightened, flustered. "Oh, my, yes. Mr. Helmsley, you may kiss your bride."  
  
"Finally." Hunter muttered.  
  
The two kissed passionately on tape. Stephanie couldn't take it anymore, she pushed pause.  
  
"We got totally jipped." Hunter commented next to her.  
  
He was right in her face; the alcohol smell was still disgustingly strong. She backed up a tiny bit.  
  
"Jipped?"  
  
"Yeah. We paid $149.95 for that?"  
  
Stephanie groaned. "That's it? That's all you have to say on this? Oh, God!" She screamed. Hunter pulled back from the loudness.  
  
"That voice can be lethal, Princess. Think of the headlines: "Groom dies on Honeymoon from Bride's Screaming." He grinned at the way he had phrased that. "But…in certain circles that would be one hell of a way to go."  
  
"Fuck off, Hunter."  
  
Hunter scooted closer to Stephanie. "Unpause it." He told her.  
  
"This is beyond humiliating, for both of us." She said.  
  
"This is our 'dream' wedding, Princess. I can't really remember too many of the details yet, but I'm sure it'll all come back with a refresher. So unpause it."  
  
She *hated* him. The bastard was...was enjoying this. He lay on the bed, the perfect picture of calm, while she felt like her whole world had been completely turned upside down all over again. She pushed the button and the screen flicked back to life.  
  
"I love you, Mr. Stephanie!" Stephanie giggled.  
  
"I love you, Mrs. Hunter!" He told her and swept her up into his arms.  
  
"Ooh, it's just like in "Gone With the Wind"! Stephanie giggled madly.   
  
The cameraman followed the newly-wedded couple as they made their way out of the tiny chapel. There was a woman at the front desk. "Oh, sugs, don't forget your souvenir packs!" She trilled.  
  
"Souvenirs? We get souvenirs?" Stephanie hiccupped again.  
  
"You sure do, honey."  
  
"Congratulations to the two of you, Mr. and Mrs. Helmsley!" The cameraman said. "I'll just pull out the videotape of your ceremony and slip it the special case for you here."   
  
The tape went blank.  
  
Stephanie looked down at her t-shirt. "This must have been the so-called 'souvenir'. She muttered darkly.  
  
Hunter started laughing. She looked up at him, tears springing to her eyes.  
  
"My God." She muttered. "My God, I'm going to be divorced twice before I'm even 25. And both of the divorces are from the same man!" She wanted to scream. Or cry. Or possibly both, and with a big quart of Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream nearby.  
  
"Not necessarily." Hunter's voice was right by her ear. She stiffened.  
  
"I mean, Princess, would it be so terrible if we just…stayed married this time?"  
  
Stephanie froze. Then with another scream she launched herself onto the bed, hitting him wherever her fists could make contact.


	7. How to Be: Loved

Part Seven—How to Be: Loved  
  
This is it, people! The conclusion of How to Be. I think this one's longer than the other six put together! Love it, hate it, let me know.  
  
  
"Stay married? Stay married?!" Stephanie shrieked as she continued to hit Hunter. He wasn't really hurt from the 'blows' but even so…  
  
He grabbed her fists and pulled her to his chest. "Yeah. Would it be so bad? To be married?" He asked again.  
  
"I have nothing against the fine institution of marriage. I just don't want to be married to you!" She yelled in his face.  
  
He grimaced. "Well, Steph, that's just too bad, now isn't it? For better or worse, remember? I'd say this qualifies as worse but…" he trailed off.  
  
"Not for long! I'm calling my lawyer. He'll fix this!"  
  
"Just like he 'fixed' it the last time?" Hunter said snidely. "Our lawyers made a mint off of us the last go around."  
  
Stephanie froze. "Hunter—God, please, don't be an ass about this. This—this is just a stupid mistake! Don't make this into something it's—it's not."  
  
"What do you think this is?" Since he figured she was somehow stunned into submission he cautiously released his grip on her. Stephanie rubbed her wrists absently, and he winced.  
  
He hadn't meant to grip that hard.  
  
"I don't—this doesn't mean anything, Hunter." She said this calmly, like she was talking about the weather, or some equally mundane topic…nothing like their marriage.  
  
He narrowed his eyes. "Are you still drunk? Because unless I missed something important here, we're married. I'd say that qualifies as, oh, I don't know important."   
  
"Shut up! Stop saying that!" Stephanie told him.  
  
"Stop saying what? It's true, we're married. You saw the tape!"   
  
He would not yell.   
  
He would not.   
  
Yelling never accomplished anything with Stephanie, it only made her yell back.  
  
And he didn't want that…  
  
Yet.  
  
"I said to shut up! Why aren't you shutting up?" Stephanie pushed away from him, tried to get up from the bed but in her agitation got twisted in the sheets and hit the floor with a hard 'oomph'.  
  
He wouldn't laugh.   
  
He bit the inside of his cheek to steel that resolution.  
  
He didn't figure laughing would go over really well right about now.  
  
God, I love you, you clumsy woman. His heart skipped a happy little pattern in his chest, and he felt a curious sense of contentment as he watched her get up off the floor.  
  
She glared at him, but he did his best to look innocent.  
  
Innocent, strangely enough, was never one of Hunter's best looks. He always looked like he had just swallowed some kind of bad fish.  
  
Stephanie chose not to say anything, instead tried to gather the tiny strands left of her dignity together.  
  
"Hunter." She began.   
  
And stopped.  
  
"Hunter. We—" She thought again. Tried to put it into words, what she was feeling. "This was just…a mistake. A horrible, horrible mistake that we made when we weren't at our best. We were drunk and neither of us knew what we were doing. And that's all there is to it. It's not like we really meant to get married."  
  
Hunter sat silently.  
  
"Right?" She prompted.  
  
But…  
  
In that moment she wasn't quite sure what she wanted him to answer.  
  
And that scared her more than anything.   
  
"No. No, that's not right." He said finally.   
  
Time to put the cards on the table, boy. He told himself.   
  
He was going to tell her…tell her what?   
  
That he loved her? That he still loved her? That despite everything they'd put each other through, he loved her more than anyone on the face of the planet and probably always, always would? That this past year he had thought of her every day, dreamt of her every night, except for the nights he couldn't sleep at all because he couldn't stop thinking about her?  
  
He could.  
  
He could do that. He could tell her all of that…and then…  
  
It would be up to her. And he could finally, finally have some peace, either way because damn it, at least he had tried, he had done everything he could do.  
  
He opened his mouth, to say it all but instead what somehow came out was:  
  
"I work for you now, you know."   
  
What the @#%$?!   
  
"The hell you do." Stephanie snorted. The intense mood of their conversation of a few seconds ago was quickly dissipating.  
  
"No, no, I really do!" Hunter said, warming to the subject. "Your dad and I signed papers. I'm now signed to Smackdown."  
  
Stephanie blinked. "This—this isn't funny. What the hell are you talking about?"   
  
"I really don't know anymore." Hunter confessed.  
  
Stephanie sat on the edge of the bed. "Why?" She asked softly. She wasn't looking at him, just stared at the floor.  
  
She was looking at so intensely Hunter looked down himself just to make sure there wasn't something down there.  
  
"Because I can."  
  
She laughed but it was…hollow. Distant. "To what, Hunter? Torment me? Try and make my life a living hell?"  
  
"No! Why would you even say that?"   
  
Oh, damn, he was yelling now.  
  
"I don't know Hunter! Just because you seem to enjoy it an awful lot!"  
  
"I never enjoyed it. Not with you, Stephanie."   
  
She looked at him now, blue eyes glaring hatefully.  
  
He almost cringed from the look.  
  
"You put on a hell of a good show of it then." She told him.  
  
"You—you hurt me. I hurt you back." He whispered.  
  
Stephanie choked back a sob. "I hurt you? I hurt you? God, Hunter, that's rich…you—"  
  
He couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't believe her. She was actually trying to pin everything on him, but it was a revisionist history at best.  
  
"You shut up, now." He told her. She glared at him and opened her mouth again but he quickly crawled over to her and placed his finger to her lips.  
  
"I mean it. Don't—don't do this, not now. You are going to listen to me for once in your life. You are going to hear me, damn it. And when I'm finished, then, then you can talk." He didn't wait for a response.  
  
He'd been wanting to say these things for a year now.  
  
"You lied." He said simply. He saw her eyes flare again but she didn't speak. "When I came back from the surgery, you realized things were falling apart between us. But instead of trying to fix them, you lied. Lied about the most sacred thing, ever. You took what you knew I wanted so badly and you used it to get me to do everything you wanted. And I fell for it, I fell for it so hard, and so fast because I wanted it so badly to be true. God, Stephanie, you knew just the button to push and I fell for it because it was you. You told me you were having our baby—do you have any idea what that does to a man? It changes—just everything."  
  
She swallowed. Closed her eyes a moment. "Can I talk now?" She said and he detected more than a hint of bitterness in her voice. He forced himself to nod.  
  
She leaned closer. "I was desperate. Can't you see that, now? I can understand your anger then, but it's been a year. I'd hoped—"  
  
"What? That I'd forgive you?! Time heals all wounds and all that bullshit?!" He exploded, rose to his feet. "I don't believe you!"  
  
"No! No, that wasn't what I was going to say! Just—just, God. Why have we never spoken about this before?" She muttered almost to herself.  
  
"It wasn't for any lack of trying on my part." He said.  
  
She looked up at him sharply. "Yeah, right. You tried really hard to talk to me." And now the bitterness in her voice was in full force.  
  
"Of course I did. You know that. But you never bothered to acknowledge any of my phone calls, or my letters, so I don't even know why I even give a damn!"  
  
He turned his back to her, decided to search for his pants. He thought he remembered Stephanie throwing them in the corner…ah, there they were.  
  
He didn't realize Stephanie had stopped breathing altogether behind him. Didn't realize she'd come up to him until he felt a soft hand gripping his shoulder.  
  
"What are you talking about?" She asked.  
  
He shrugged into his pants. Ignored the fact they were wrinkled beyond repair. "You know what I'm talking about." Now…his shirt…he thinks they ripped off the buttons but he'd hold the thing together himself if he had to, he just had to get out of here.  
  
"Pretend that I don't. Pretend I don't know what it is you're talking about and just tell me."  
  
Something in her voice made him hold himself still. He turned slowly. Looked at her.   
  
Watched as her breathing became shallow, her fists clench. Her eyes watered, face turned white.  
  
"The phone calls." He enunciated, as if he were talking to a very small child. "I didn't leave messages the first few" (dozen, really, but there was no reason for her to know that) "—times but I left them for at least five or six" (twenty, thirty—but she already knew that, damn it!) "—times. But you knew that already, you just chose to ignore them."   
  
He didn't understand why it was so important for him to be looking at her right this moment.   
  
God, she looked like…she looked like he'd just handed her the stock options for the entire WWE and she didn't know quite what to do with them exactly.  
  
"You ignored them, Stephanie…" He prompted again, wanting—no, needing to hear her say it now…  
  
"Letters." She said fiercely. "You said—letters. Oh, God." She sat on the floor, looked up at him. He looked down for a moment and then sat across from her.  
  
"Letters. Three of them." He enunciated.  
  
She. Knew. This.  
  
She had to, had to—  
  
Oh, God. "I wrote you letters. I wanted—to talk to you. In the last one I asked you to meet me and—" He broke off suddenly, thought about the hours he'd spent at that damn restaurant, waiting like a fool and still not able to believe two hours later that she really hadn't shown up.  
  
"I never—I never got any letters." She told him. He shook his head. No. No, he wasn't falling for this, he wasn't believing this. It was all just—no!   
  
"I never got any phone messages either." She whispered. She stared at him. "I swear to God, I swear, Hunter…I never got anything! I thought—"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I thought you didn't care, that you'd never be able to forgive me! That you just wanted me gone!"  
  
"You—"  
  
"That's why I was so angry about it! Do you really think I gave a damn either way about your money? It was just a way to—to stay in your life, somehow! I wanted to provoke you, to just get you to start talking to me again. God, Hunter! I did everything I could think of to just get to you and you refused to even talk to me!"  
  
"But I did—I—"  
  
"I know that now! I can see you're telling me the truth, I can, but Hunter, I Never Got Any Letters. Or calls, or anything, tell me you believe me!" She knelt next to him now, her eyes shining with tears she refused to let fall.  
  
"@#%$." He gasped. "You mean—this was all—"  
  
"A misunderstanding. You tried to communicate, if I would have known, I would have done anything, anything at all, do you understand that? But I. Didn't. Know."  
  
He ran his hand through his hair. Breathed out. If she was telling the truth—and she was, there was no doubt about it—this changed everything.  
  
"We've lost so much time." The words she had just uttered finally broke through to his brain.  
  
"We won't lose anymore." He promised and pulled her to him, kissed her. She wound her arms around his neck. "What happened?" She asked.  
  
"I don't know. We'll figure it out later. Right now, I just want to kiss you."  
  
She pulled away, looked at his face. "You know it was my father. Had to have been. He intercepted them somehow and--" She said seriously.  
  
He was glad the look in her eyes wasn't directed at him.  
  
"He would be the obvious choice. He's always hated us together, always hated the fact you were in love with a lowlife like me—"  
  
She waved it off. "No, no it was never anything like that." Seeing the doubtful, disbelieving expression on his face she quickly amended that statement.  
  
"Okay, well, that was a part of it there. But the bigger part of it was that he was always...afraid of us."  
  
"Afraid?"  
  
"Of what you and I could accomplish. Of what you and I could create together. You and I—we're unbeatable when we're on the same side, you know that, don't you? Because he sure as hell did. God, when I think about how nice he was, after the wedding, after—he was playing me the whole time."  
  
"Are you going to give us a chance to test that theory out again? That we're…unbeatable?" He asked, voice teasing, but utterly serious.  
  
"If you'll let me."  
  
"We still have a lot of things to talk about, you realize."  
  
"Yeah, but I want you to kiss me now." She flicked her tongue along his neck.   
  
He laughed and stretched out an arm to the radio. "Some mood music, to better seduce my woman with." She laughed as her tongue licked a trail down his chest, to his navel…  
  
A song was playing, he recognized it immediately, it was on all the time. He started to turn it but her hand stilled him.  
  
"No…" She whispered, "Leave it on."  
  
"It hardly fits the—ah—mood..." He gasped when her tongue trailed across his stomach.  
  
"It fits mine perfectly. Whenever I heard this song, it always made me think of you, of us. It's fitting that it's playing now. Kind of brings things full circle, if you ask me. And we need to do something about these pants!" She laughed, tossed her head back even as she unzipped them again.  
  
She was so beautiful. He heard the chorus of the song in the background but it barely filtered through what Stephanie was doing….  
  
Livin' my life in a slow hell _  
Different girl every night at the hotel   
I ain't seen the sun shine in three damn days   
Been fuelin' up on cocaine and whisky   
Wish I had a good girl to miss me   
Lord I wonder if I'll ever change my ways   
  
I put your picture away   
Sat down and cried today   
I can't look at you while I'm lyin' next to her   
I put your picture away, sat down and cried today   
I can't look at you I'm lyin' next to her   
  
I called you last night in the hotel   
Everyone knows but they won't tell   
But their half-hearted smiles tell me   
Somethin' just ain't right   
I been waitin' on you for a long time   
Fuelin' up on heartaches and cheap wine   
I ain't heard from you in three damn nights   
  
I put your picture away   
I wonder where you been   
I can't look at you while I'm lyin' next to him   
I put your picture away   
I wonder where you been   
I can't look at you while I'm lyin' next to him   
  
I saw you yesterday with an old friend   
  
It was the same old same "How have you been?"   
  
Since you been gone my world's been dark and grey   
  
You reminded me of brighter days   
  
I hoped you were comin' home to stay   
I was headin' to church  
  
I was off to drink you away   
  
I thought about you for a long time   
Can't seem to get you off my mind   
I can't understand why we're living life this way   
I found your picture today   
I swear I'll change my ways   
I just called to say I want you to come back home  
  
I found your picture today   
I swear I'll change my ways   
  
I just called to say I want you to come back home   
I just called to say, I love you...come back home_  
  
"I love you Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley." He breathed out.  
  
She smiled sleepily against his chest. "I love you too, Mr. Helmsley."  
  
The two of them were almost asleep when…  
  
"I'm not letting you divorce me ever again." She told him almost as an afterthought.  
  
"Okay." He agreed happily.  
  
"Okay, as long as we're clear on that."  
  
"We are."  
  
"Good. Wanted to make sure."  
  
"Clear as crystal."  
  
"Hunter—"  
  
"Go to sleep already! I'm trying to figure out how we're going to get back at your father. Showing him our videotaped nuptials will be only the beginning, I can promise you that much."  
  
Stephanie laughed. "We're soulmates, you know that?"  
  
When her breathing indicated she was truly asleep he finally whispered: "Yeah, Princess..."  
  
"I do."  
  
  
~Fin~  
  



End file.
